Labyrinth of Lies Read online

  “He may know I’m undercover, but I doubt he’ll be up to speed on the details, if that’s what you’re asking.”

  “So much for my inside source.” Heaving an exaggerated sigh, Eve went back to stacking dishes.

  “If there are no further questions”—Cate continued down the hall to discourage any—“I’ll get the game.”

  But as she rummaged through the closet in her bedroom, the muted conversation between her sisters drifted toward her.

  “. . . not telling us?” The tail end of Grace’s comment registered, and Cate tiptoed back to the door. Cocked her ear.

  “. . . much as she can. But it doesn’t . . . as dangerous as the . . . earlier this year.”

  It was hard to hear Eve, who was farther away, in the kitchen.

  “I hope not—but she hated that other assignment. I can’t believe they talked her into doing this again.”

  “I don’t know why . . . first time. She ever open up to you about . . . to do that?”

  “No.”

  “I think . . . complicated . . . ever shared with us.”

  “That’s possible—but you know Cate. She can play her cards close to her vest.”

  “Yeah, and despite her . . . I’m worried.”

  “Me too. I don’t have a warm and fuzzy feeling about this whole thing.”

  The murmured conversation continued, but Cate retreated, guilt nipping at her conscience. Eavesdropping was wrong, even if she was only trying to figure out how to spare her sisters further worry.

  But that was going to be difficult to do, in view of Grace’s last comment.

  Besides, how was she supposed to dispel her sisters’ bad feelings about this assignment when she had the same negative vibes?

  Think positive, Cate. Banish pessimistic thoughts.

  Excellent advice.

  She reached up to the shelf in the closet for the Scrabble game and tried to look at the bright side.

  It was possible they were all fretting unnecessarily.

  Maybe there was nothing ominous at all going on at Ivy Hill.

  Maybe whatever trouble Stephanie and her boyfriend had run into had happened off campus.

  Maybe the concurrent traditional investigation would solve this case fast and she could return to her normal life.

  However this played out, she’d be fine, just as she’d assured her sisters.

  But her confidence wavered when she lost her grip on the Scrabble game and it fell to the floor, contents scattering all directions.

  For as she dropped to her knees and began gathering up the wayward tiles, the cause of her clumsiness became apparent.

  Her hands were shaking.

  She closed her eyes.

  This was not good.

  She had to get a grip, corral the apprehension swirling through her.

  Tracking down criminals was what she did, and if there were secrets in the bowels of Ivy Hill, she’d unearth them. That was her mandate, and she wouldn’t fail.

  Clamping her teeth together, she tightened her ponytail and captured the last wayward tile. Threw it in the box.

  In six days, when she walked into that exclusive school as a student, she’d be ready to tackle the challenge—no matter how many pep talks she had to give herself or how many psychological games she had to play between now and then.

  Because two missing teens deserved her best effort—and she was not going to let them down.

  Selling his soul to the devil had been the biggest mistake of his life.

  And that was saying a lot, considering his track record.

  “Will? Did you hear me? I need another favor.”

  Will knocked back another gin and tonic, set the empty glass on the counter, and pressed the cell tighter against his ear. “I thought you said after our last arrangement we’d be done.”

  “The location is working out well.” The voice had a strange timbre to it, as it had during previous calls. The person on the other end must be using a voice-changing device to disguise his—or her—identity.

  “Is it? What about the student who went missing in October on one of the nights you used the facility? I’m guessing there’s a connection.”

  “She ran away.”

  “How do you know?”

  “That’s what the police concluded.”

  “Is it true?”

  “Does it matter?”

  Will began to sweat. “Yeah. It does.”

  “It’s not your problem.”

  “I don’t like being in the dark—or being used.”

  “Being in the dark is safer . . . and you were happy to use my money when you were desperate for cash. Call this payback.”

  More like extortion.

  He balled the fingers of his free hand. “I should have come clean instead.”

  “And lost your job? Perhaps gone to prison?”

  “In hindsight, that may have been preferable.”

  “A moot point at this stage. Are our January 2 and 3 target dates still workable?”

  “Yes.”

  “Some personal reconnaissance in advance to ensure the area is clear would be advisable.”

  So there was a connection between Stephanie Laurent’s disappearance and whatever illegal activity was taking place on Ivy Hill property.

  His heart stuttered, and fear congealed in his belly. “I don’t make a habit of tramping around the grounds. It would look suspicious.”

  “You have a perfect excuse. In light of the disappearance in October, you think it makes sense to have physical eyes on all parts of the property rather than rely on a few security cameras. Add a day and evening circuit of the grounds to the routine—and schedule yourself for the night shift on certain dates.”

  Stomach churning, Will slid onto a stool at the counter and dropped his head into his hand.

  Leaving a duplicate key under a rock for the lock on the gate to the remote dirt access road and dealing with the security camera for that entrance were one thing.

  A physical patrol in that area, however, put him too close to the scene of whatever was taking place.

  If only he could rewind the clock, refuse the lifeline that had been offered.

  But desperation could short-circuit brain cells.

  Logic should have told him that once his so-called savior had blackmail material, the persecution could go on forever. That he could be forced to continue aiding and abetting whatever illegal activity was taking place.

  Making the lifeline he’d welcomed an ever-tightening noose.

  “Will? You with me?”

  He filled his lungs. “Yeah.”

  “I can count on you?”

  What choice did he have? He was in too deep to backtrack.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good.”

  The line went dead.

  After a moment, Will stabbed the end button.

  What was he going to do?

  If Suz ever got wind of how he’d managed to meet her ultimatum, she’d never come back to him.

  And he couldn’t handle that. After twenty-six years of marriage, life without her was empty. Living in this cramped apartment, eating frozen dinners, going to bed alone night after night—it stunk.

  Their six-month trial separation would be up in five weeks, and he couldn’t risk exposure at this stage or he’d lose her forever.

  Meaning he had to do what his anonymous rescuer demanded.

  And really, even with an added patrol, his part in whatever was going on was minuscule. How accountable could he be for the nefarious activity taking place? He knew nothing.

  Except that a girl—and her boyfriend—were missing.

  A tremor snaked through him, and he reached for the bottle of gin again.

  Hesitated.

  That might not be the best idea. It would be too easy to start relying on booze to smooth out the rough edges in his life.

  And he sure didn’t need to add another vice to the one that had plunged him deep into the murky waters of deception—where he was sinking fast.

  3

  WHAT IN BLAZES was Cate Reilly doing at Ivy Hill Academy?

  Sucking in a breath, Zeke took a quick step backward, around the corner in the hall. Dropped to one knee on the pretense of tying a shoelace. Leaned forward slightly until the woman with long auburn hair and her middle-aged male companion standing near the reception desk in the distance were visible.

  Could his eyes be deceiving him?

  Was that Cate?

  He squinted at her profile, tracing the aquiline nose, strong chin, graceful neck.

  She wasn’t wearing her usual ponytail—but yeah. It was Cate.

  Eight years may have passed since he’d last seen her, but a man didn’t forget the only woman who’d ever managed to infiltrate his defenses and make him second-guess his choices.

  But why had he run into her here, of all places?

  And how was he supposed to play this?

  “Everything okay, Zeke?” Richard clapped a hand on his shoulder as the other faculty members spilling out of the conference room detoured around them.

  “Yes.” He finished retying his shoe and stood, shifting into wing-it mode. “Lace came undone. I wouldn’t want to trip in front of my new colleagues and lose face the first day.” He called up a grin.

  Richard chuckled. “I hear you—but they’re a forgiving bunch. Are you joining us for lunch?”

  That had been the plan. If he wanted to get to know his coworkers, begin laying the groundwork for relationships that could produce useful information, he should take advantage of every opportunity for social interaction.

  Except a more urgent priority had arisen.

  “I hope so, but I have to deal with an issue my new landlord texted me about during the meeting.” The lie tripp
ed off his tongue, deception second nature to him after all these years. “May I join you in progress if I can resolve this quickly?”

  “Of course. I’ll be delayed myself. I have to do a meet-and-greet with a new student. No one will mark you tardy if you’re late.” With a wink and a grin, he continued around the corner, out of sight.

  After a few moments, Zeke checked on his progress.

  He was heading toward Cate and her companion.

  As he watched, Richard shook hands with the man, then with Cate, and motioned them down the hall, toward his office.

  Toward him.

  Zeke backtracked to the deserted conference room, slipped inside, and shut the door behind him, replaying Richard’s words.

  A meet-and-greet with a new student.

  Not computing.

  Unless Cate had a daughter she’d never bothered to mention, that story didn’t add up.

  He needed answers.

  Keeping tabs on the closed door, he pulled out his cell and keyed in the contact number reserved for emergencies.

  Like this one.

  Because unless he could find out what was going on and take proactive measures to protect himself, Cate Reilly could ruin everything.

  She did not want to be here.

  Heaving a sigh, Cate plopped onto the twin bed she’d been assigned in a dorm room, scooted back against the wall, and wrapped her arms around her knees.

  At least the meeting with the president yesterday had gone well. He’d seemed to buy the story the fellow detective posing as her father had told him.

  Now all she had to do was figure out what had happened to Stephanie.

  Piece of cake, right?

  Ha.

  Despite Sarge’s reassurance, this could end up being a long gig.

  And until there was a break in this case that would let her get back to her normal routine of homicide and murder investigations, she was stuck here.

  So what could she do to expedite the process?

  Unfortunately, not much today other than wander around and get the lay of the land. Classes didn’t start until Monday, and most of the students wouldn’t arrive until tomorrow.

  She wiggled into a more comfortable position, tension thrumming through her nerve endings.

  Strange to be at loose ends on a Saturday. If she was home, she’d either be working or catching up on all the personal errands that got relegated to the weekends. Sitting around felt wasteful. Unproductive. Frustrating.

  She drummed her finger against her knee and surveyed the leaden sky through the window.

  A hike around the grounds could be useful—but braving the biting wind and the hint of ice in the air held zero appeal. Mom’s fault. The Athens-born matriarch of the Reilly family had passed on her preference for warm, sunny Mediterranean weather to her firstborn.

  So why not save the outdoor activity for tomorrow? Give the textbooks for the classes she’d be taking another pass?

  Especially trigonometry.

  Math may have been a breeze back in high school, but cosines and secants felt like a foreign language at this stage of her life. Putting in a few hours over the weekend on—

  The door opened, and a slender teen with cornrows and guarded brown eyes entered, toting a bulging duffel bag.

  Her roommate.

  Last she’d heard, though, the girl wasn’t expected until tomorrow.

  But having an extra day to get acquainted before classes began was a bonus.

  “Hey.” The girl stopped inside the door, lowered the duffel to the floor, and gave her a cautious once-over.

  “Hey.” She stayed where she was. “You must be Kayla.”

  No question about it.

  Her “father’s” request that she be paired with a diverse roommate to broaden her exposure to other demographics and enhance her ethnic sensitivity had almost guaranteed she’d be assigned to bunk with Kayla Harris, given the limited minority population in the student body.

  The very same Kayla who’d been Stephanie’s roommate during the other girl’s short tenure—and who now had an empty bed in her room.

  “Yeah. You’re Cate, right?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “They told me your name at check-in. When did you get here?”

  “Yesterday. Dad dumped me and took off back to the East Coast.”

  Kayla lifted her duffel again. “It’s not a bad place to get dumped.”

  A predictable response, based on the information in the girl’s background file.

  The seventeen-year-old junior from the impoverished north side of St. Louis was here on one of the few grants offered to promising students from lower-income families, established at the urging of Reverend Tyrone Wilson, a longtime member of the school’s board of trustees and the prominent pastor of a church on the north side.

  Thanks to her strong standardized test scores—and Reverend Wilson’s recommendation—Kayla had been offered the opportunity to profit from the excellent education Ivy Hill offered. An opportunity her parents had encouraged her to pursue.

  But while her record here was impeccable and her grades high, she wasn’t a joiner. Her name was nowhere to be found in the school’s roster of clubs or sports teams.

  In other words, she kept to herself—and kept her nose clean.

  If any student had been privy to inside info on Stephanie, however, she could be the one—even if she had been away on a retreat the weekend of the disappearance and wouldn’t be able to offer any insight about that.

  Kayla hauled the duffel to her side of the room and heaved it onto the bed in silence.

  After debating her next move, Cate leaned over and pulled a pack of cigarettes from her purse.

  Kayla glanced toward her as the cellophane wrapper crinkled, twin furrows creasing her brow. “You can’t smoke here.”

  “Who’ll know?” She shook one out.

  The girl faced her. “I don’t want trouble.”

  “So don’t smoke.” Cate shrugged and fished around for a lighter.

  “Listen . . .” The teen took a step closer, panic flaring in her eyes. “I don’t wanna get busted, okay? The class mom can smell smoke like an elephant smells water.”

  That would be Marian Howard, the pleasant, sixtyish widow who’d shown her to her room yesterday. The quiet, wouldn’t-hurt-a-flea type.

  “I met her yesterday. She seemed pretty laid-back.”

  “Not about smoking. Her husband died of lung cancer and she hates cigarettes. If you want to smoke, go out in the woods like my other roommate did.”

  Ah.

  Two useful pieces of information.

  Kayla stayed on the straight and narrow—and she followed the rules.

  Stephanie didn’t—and she disappeared into the woods to break them.

  “She get caught? Is that why she’s gone?” Cate shoved the cigarette she didn’t want back into her purse, where it would stay. The prop had served its purpose.

  “No.” Kayla turned back to her bed. “She ran away.”

  “Yeah? How come her parents didn’t haul her back here?”

  “She’s still gone.”

  “You mean she, like, disappeared?”

  “Yeah.” Kayla zipped open her duffel bag. “With her boyfriend.”

  “That is so lit.” According to her research, lit was a common teen expression for amazing—but in view of the odd vernacular high schoolers used these days, she’d have to dispense her slang sparingly. Enough to sell her role, but not enough to make an inadvertent mistake.

  “No. It’s stupid.” Kayla began yanking out clothes with more force than necessary. “She shoulda talked to Reverend Wilson instead of Mr. Evans if she had issues.”

  “Who are they?”

  But she already knew.

  In addition to being a trustee, the reverend was also the school’s chaplain. Noah Evans was one of two guidance/career counselors.

  “Chaplain and counselor.”

  “Why shouldn’t she have gone to Evans?”

  Kayla continued unpacking, keeping her back turned.

  Several seconds ticked by.

  “Kayla?”

  “Just stay away from Evans.”

  “Why?”

  Silence.

  “Fine. I’d rather listen to music than talk anyway.” Cate retrieved her earbuds, plugged them into her phone, and called up a tune from the latest teen heartthrob.

  But she lowered the volume as she planned her strategy.

  If Stephanie had gone into the woods to smoke, a hike around the property would have to move up on her priority list, cold weather or not.